


simply human, human, human

by adamganseys



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cabeswater - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-The Raven King, Pre-Epilogue, Sharing A Bed For The First Time, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 15:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11188296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamganseys/pseuds/adamganseys
Summary: “What—“ Adam swallows audibly, but his voice still comes out in the same weak whisper. “What am I without it, Ronan?”He doesn’t mean to say it, doesn’t mean to bring his deepest fear to light, but it happens anyways, without his approval. He feels as helpless now as the terrified boy he’d been when he’d first moved out of that trailer, aching for that wretched home despite himself and lacking any sense of who he was and what he wanted. Cabeswater had given him so much, had given him everything: strength, power, magic. Love.(Or, the one where Ronan helps Adam cope with Cabeswater's death)





	simply human, human, human

**Author's Note:**

> I started this back when the snippet from the TRK paperback short story came out because I was having Feelings about Adam and Cabeswater. It wasn't supposed to be more than like 4k but oops. I know it's kind of repetitive with what I've written in other fics but oh well? I feel like the majority of my fics take place right after TRK and I'm probably gonna write even more in that time frame because I like writing a billion variations of similar scenarios, apparently. 
> 
> Not much Opal in this sadly, even though Opal and how much she adores Adam Parrish was obviously the Highlight of that snippet, but I will explore more of Adam/Opal and how much they love each other in the coming chapters of my longer fic (which will update... not soon but..... eventually........ I promise).

It isn’t a nightmare that brings Adam to the breaking point.

It’s a dream.

In the dream, he’s in Cabeswater. Ronan, Gansey, and Blue are in the forest somewhere, but they’ve wandered off, and Adam is lying on the grass by himself.

Except, he isn’t by himself.

Cabeswater is with him, around him, inside him. The sun is shining on his face, and the grass tickles the back of his neck. It’s quiet, peaceful. Every so often, he feels leaves brush against his cheek, even though there are no leaves in the space directly around him. Cabeswater whispers in both of his ears, but they’re not words, not really. They’re hazy thoughts, images, emotions. One emotion sticks out in particular, but he’s afraid to name it. It’s too large and powerful to grasp.

When Adam wakes up, he's alone. The feeling of blinding, overwhelming, senseless happiness lasts for a few seconds, while he's half in the dream and half in the waking world. It fades almost immediately after, though, and he's left with the knowledge that it was only a dream, or maybe a whisper of a memory, maybe something he'd felt and experienced once, or could have felt and experienced had Cabeswater not crumbled and dissolved and died in front of his eyes. 

It's a Friday night, a little over a week after Gansey’s death and resurrection, and Adam lays there, in Declan's room, even breaths turning shorter and more panicked until his hands are shaking, until his whole body is trembling. He quickly gets out of bed, his white t-shirt and gray sweatpants sticky from sweat. He makes his way to the bathroom down the hall, trying to calm himself down, to keep the misery from pouring out. 

He barely reaches the toilet before he's throwing up into it.

He flushes the toilet and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. Counting to ten. It doesn't help. He thinks he might start crying, the loud, sobbing kind, but all that comes out in the end are a couple tears that he wipes away with the heel of his palms.

It's when he's brushing his teeth to get the foul taste out from his mouth, his hand moving in mechanical circles, his head trying to empty itself out and not think, that he hears a loud knock on the door.

"Parrish?"

Adam freezes. He holds his breath, hoping in vain that Ronan will just leave. He can't let Ronan see him when he's like this.

"Adam?"

"What?" Adam grits out, after spitting into the sink, and it comes out harsher than he means it to.

A pause. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Adam hears a muffled scoff. "You sure about that? Because I'm pretty sure I heard someone retching loudly out here, and unless it's the urchin--"

"Just go back to bed, Ronan. I’m sorry for waking you. I'm _fine_.”

"Whatever. I'm coming in."

"Lynch, don't--"

It's too late. Adam hadn't locked the door, so Ronan strolls in easily. When he sees Adam - eyes red and struggling to hide his misery - he stills in the doorway. 

Ronan's brow furrows, his concern apparent in a way that he wouldn't normally allow it to be. Distantly, Adam thinks of pressing fingers to the skin there, smoothing it out, then going lower and feeling Ronan's eyelashes flutter against his knuckles.

"Adam, what the fuck happened?"

His first name still sounds so foreign coming from Ronan’s lips. Adam counts the number of times he says it and hoards them greedily.

"Nothing." His voice is dry and cracked.

Ronan scowls. "Don't fucking lie."

Adam doesn't reply, just stubbornly stares at a spot behind Ronan's head. His mind feels like it's retreating, except this time there's no Cabeswater to retreat to, only the dark places in his own head.

"Was it a nightmare?"

Adam forces himself to stay present, using Ronan's nearness to ground him. It's several moments before he says, voice still hoarse, "No."

Ronan doesn't say anything else, just studies his face, and then he steps forward. 

" _No_ ," Adam gasps out, stumbling backwards so fast that he almost trips. Ronan can't touch him. The demon took everything - Aurora, Gansey, Cabeswater, Adam's hands. It tried to take Ronan, almost succeeded. He's sure that if Ronan comes near him, his hands will strangle him, and Cabeswater won't be there to save them this time. Adam will lose Ronan, too, and then he'll truly have nothing.

Ronan's expression is unreadable, but he doesn't stop moving forward, his hands slowly reaching out to Adam. Adam's back hits the wall.

Ronan's face twists further. "Parrish-"

Adam shakes his head, unable to get any words out. He's trembling again, harder than before, and he can't get air into his lungs.

“Adam, hey,” Ronan says as he finally puts his arms around Adam with determination, his voice so achingly soft that something inside Adam hurts.

Adam closes his eyes, tries to absorb the feeling of Ronan around him and ignore everything else, but it doesn’t work. His legs give out, and then he’s sliding down and collapsing onto the floor of the bathroom. Ronan makes a surprised noise and falls down with Adam, the other boy’s arms still tight around his shoulders.

Adam’s breaths are still coming out as choked gasps, and he pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his own arms around them. One of Ronan’s hands has reached behind Adam’s head to sit on his left shoulder, rubbing circles with his thumb, and the other clutches Adam’s upper arm, his grip gentle but firm.

“Adam. You’re okay. Breathe.” Adam can tell Ronan is trying to help, trying to assure and comfort and act like he knows what he’s doing, but he really just sounds scared, uncertain, lost. Adam can’t blame him. Adam, too, feels scared, uncertain, lost.

Neither of them are very good at comfort, but maybe they’re learning. After everything they’ve been through, they have no choice but to learn, to try to hold the other up when he falls.

Regardless, Adam breathes. After minutes of silence, minutes of nothing but the sound of their breathing and the feel of Ronan’s fingers on his skin, Adam finally speaks.

“It’s gone.” He hardly recognizes his own voice.

Ronan doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and Adam thinks he’ll have to clarify what he means, but then Ronan murmurs, lowly, “I know.” He’s curled closer around Adam than he was before, and Adam feels his breath on his hair.

“And—and it’s so damn _stupid_. It wasn’t even _mine_ , and I’m still—“

“ _Fuck_ that,” Ronan growls. “Of course it was yours.”

It wasn’t, though. Not really. Adam may have been Cabeswater’s magician, but he didn’t have the same lifelong bond with it that Ronan did, didn’t love it in the simple and easy and awed way that Blue and Gansey did. Can he really claim even a part of it for himself, call its death his own loss? All Adam does is take from other people; that had been made clear to him since the beginning.

Maybe his sacrifice to Cabeswater had been a way of taking from others, too, taking that wondrous forest’s magic and making it his own when it was never meant to be. Maybe that’s why it had died.

But Adam supposes that it doesn’t truly matter, because regardless of whether it was his right or not, Adam had loved Cabeswater with everything he had, and now, the ache of its loss is a thousand times worse than any hit he’s ever received.

All he can think of is Cabeswater curling its vines protectively around him, showing him memories of happiness, opening up a world he’d previously considered impossible.

He’d felt it so viscerally, so painfully, that love, that gratitude. Would he ever feel that again?

He wonders if his ability to love had died along with Cabeswater, too.

“What—“ Adam swallows audibly, but his voice still comes out in the same weak whisper. “What am I without it, Ronan?”

He doesn’t mean to say it, doesn’t mean to bring his deepest fear to light, but it happens anyways, without his approval. He feels as helpless now as the terrified boy he’d been when he’d first moved out of that trailer, aching for that wretched home despite himself and lacking any sense of who he was and what he wanted. Cabeswater had given him so much, had given him everything: strength, power, magic. Love.

Without it, what does he have?

Nothing.

The Magician had fallen along with the forest he served. Now, there is only this: Adam Parrish.  

He’s still looking down at his knees when he feels Ronan’s hands cup his face. He stops breathing, this time for an entirely different reason.

“Parrish, look at me.”

When Adam turns his head, they are far too close. He can count every long eyelash, can feel Ronan’s soft exhales on his face.

“You don’t need it. You never fucking needed it, just like you never needed that favor.”

Adam shakes his head and looks away, but Ronan just clutches his face harder, his verging-on-harsh grip at odds with the soft way his thumb moves on Adam’s cheek.

“You never needed any of it, Adam,” Ronan says again, voice determined and fierce.

“So you don’t care? That I’m not the magician anymore? You—You really still…” Adam trails off. _You really still want me, even though I’m not magic anymore? Even though anything that was special about me has disappeared and turned to dust, if it ever existed at all?_

He’s not sure he wants to know the answer. He _needs_ to know the answer.

Ronan bristles, pulling his hands back. “Fuck you.”

“That’s not an answer,” Adam presses.

“Maybe because your question makes no fucking sense. You _are_ the magician. With or without Cabeswater. That’s _you_. It’s always been _you_. Jesus, didn’t the blonde witch drill that into your head?”

The reminder of Persephone is a whole other wound that Adam didn’t want to open. “Persephone’s dead, Ronan,” Adam says icily. “The least you can do is call her by her name.”

“Whatever,” Ronan says dismissively, but he looks slightly chastened. “And, by the way, I wanted this long before you decided to be a fucking dumbass and sacrifice yourself. So get that bullshit out of your head, Parrish.” The ferocious and angry tone directly contradicts the meaning of the words. 

“Oh,” Adam exhales, voice small and wondrous. Because that… that is something Adam didn’t know, despite how observant he prided himself on being.

This time it’s Ronan who looks away, as Adam keeps staring at the side of his face, awed. The way his dark lashes curl over his eyes. The tantalizing line of his jaw. Ronan’s sharp inhale when Adam presses his nose to it is almost enough to make him forget his grief. Adam closes his eyes, feeling slightly mad, slightly reckless, for a moment, if the way he almost nuzzles Ronan’s jaw is any indication. Ronan’s breath comes shaky on Adam’s forehead. Adam lifts his head a little, so that instead of his nose, it’s his lips that are lightly pressed to Ronan’s skin, warm mouth against scratchy stubble. It takes everything in him to not kiss him for real, to kiss him hard, to not bite. He feels raw, starved, _alive_.

“Adam,” Ronan says, and of the eleven times that Ronan has called him by name since they first kissed, this is the one that Adam knows will keep him up for nights on end.

“What?” Adam whispers as his lips move up to the spot next to Ronan’s ear.  

“You should get some sleep,” Ronan replies, sounding like he wants the exact opposite.

Adam pulls back, annoyed. “Says you.”

“Yeah, says me, who _doesn’t_ have school and work in about four hours, because I don’t believe in self inflicted torture.”

“Oh, shut up,” Adam says automatically. “You know why I have to—“

“Not the damn point, Parrish.”

Adam feels a little sting at _Parrish_. “Whatever,” Adam mutters, because he feels like picking a fight, because this back and forth between them is as familiar as his own name. “You’re still being a dick.”

“And you’re still deflecting,” Ronan shoots back.

Adam is abruptly furious, because Ronan is refusing to fight with him, because Ronan is actually making a good point, because he needs an excuse not to go back to that empty bed that’ll just remind him of how he’s truly alone, how Cabeswater is gone forever.

He crosses his arms and stares at the far wall, stubbornness and fear pulsing through him, stronger than anything else.

“So you planning to spend the night right here in the bathroom, then?”

Adam shrugs, petulant. “Why not?”

“Great plan, genius,” Ronan bites out, clearly exasperated. “Man, you’re really putting that ginormous brain of yours to good use.”

There’s a question at the tip of Adam’s tongue, something that he’s wanted ever since that first night at the Barns, something he reached out for and ended up empty handed once before. And it shouldn’t be too much to ask, especially not now, not after everything that’s happened, but it’s also because of everything that’s happened that Ronan is quick to pull away. Besides, they’ve only kissed a couple of times since the first kiss, and Adam doesn’t know where the lines are.

Adam lets out a long breath and looks at Ronan. “Were _you_ sleeping?”

Ronan looks away. “Tried for a while. Didn’t really work.”

“How long has it been since you slept?”

Ronan makes a noncommittal noise, then frowns at Adam’s expression. “Oh, don’t start this with me, Parrish. Sorry it’s a little fucking difficult wanting to fall asleep knowing I’ll probably be seeing my mom’s dead body any second.”

Adam knows Ronan spits fire to wound, and he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he uses the bullet as an opportunity.

Wringing his hands together, not quite looking Ronan in the eye, Adam says, “Maybe… I could sleep in your room. With you. It might help.” _It’ll definitely help me_.

It’s a bold request, but not one that he hadn’t made before. The first night, after Gansey’s death, Adam had offered the same thing, not wanting Ronan to be alone in his grief. Ronan’s face had tightened, and he’d shaken his head.

“If I have a nightmare—if I bring something out—“

“I don’t care—“

“ _Adam_ ,” Ronan had just said, something desperate and pleading in his eyes, showing scared he was of losing someone else.

So Adam had complied, dejectedly sleeping in Declan’s room, figuring Ronan would let up soon enough. He hadn’t so far, though, and Adam couldn’t afford to wait anymore.

Now Ronan stands up and sneers at him, all thorns and barbed wire. “You sure think a lot of yourself.”

This time, Adam _does_ flinch, hurt tightening his chest and making it hard to breathe, even though he knows somewhere deep inside that Ronan is only saying this to protect himself, to protect Adam, in his own fucked up and completely unhelpful way.

“Fine,” Adam spits angrily, voice coming out slightly strangled. “I guess I’ll just sleep alone, then. Again.”

He stands up and starts walking towards the door, but he’s only taken two steps forward when fingers link around his wrist. Adam turns to face Ronan, making his glare as scorching as he possibly can.

“Let go of me, Lynch,” Adam grits out.

Ronan’s expression is inscrutable as he moves closer to Adam. He doesn’t let go of Adam; instead he practically cradles Adam palm in his own and then brings Adam’s knuckles to his mouth.

Adam can’t keep the surprise off his face. Ronan hasn’t done that since the night of their first kiss, and Adam is suddenly hit with the knowledge that he’d been subconsciously starving for it ever since then.

Adam tries and fails to hide his shiver when Ronan kisses his wrist, lips delicately moving over his racing pulse. He can’t stop staring at the point where Ronan’s mouth meets his skin.

“If you’re trying to distract me with that, it’s not going to work,” Adam says, but his expression and the hitch in his breath betrays the lie.

Ronan raises an eyebrow. “Seems like it’s working.”

Adam responds with an unimpressed look, but the tips of his ears are red. “Asshole.”

Ronan’s lips quirk in something of a smug smile, just for a second. Then he sighs, leaving one last kiss on Adam's palm before dropping his hand.

Adam looks at Ronan, and Ronan looks back. Adam can see that the other boy is struggling with himself.

"I could bring something out," Ronan finally says. _I could hurt you_ , he doesn’t say. Adam hears it anyway.

"Really?" Adam deadpans. "I had no idea. I'm learning so much tonight."

Ronan shoots him a glare. "This isn't funny, shithead."

"No, what's _funny_ is that you think I hadn't thought about and considered all of that before we--" Adam sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. "I'm not asking for you, this time." He doesn't know if he ever was, really. "I don't want to... I can't sleep alone right now." His voice breaks shamefully at the last part.

Ronan’s face twists unpleasantly at the words, and a muscle works in his jaw as he thinks. Finally, he inclines his head towards the door.

"Come on, Parrish."

Adam's chest fills with triumph and relief and then something more apprehensive. Something acknowledging the fact that he’s about to sleep in the same bed as Ronan Lynch for the first time.

As they pass the sink, Ronan pauses, staring at it with a befuddled look. “Did you use my toothbrush?”

Adam had nearly forgotten. He flushes. “Oh, um, yeah. It was the only one that was there and I didn’t really want to smell like puke, so.” He clears his throat. “Sorry,” He adds belatedly.

The other two times he’d stayed over, he’d simply taken toothpaste on his finger and swirled it around in his mouth until he could get to St. Agnes and brush his teeth for real, but after throwing up, that didn’t really feel like enough.

Oddly enough, Ronan looks like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Whatever. You’re gross as hell, Parrish, but I already knew that.”

Adam looks at him witheringly. “Shut up.”

Casually, Ronan continues, “I have plenty of extras lying around somewhere. I’ll keep one in the bathroom for you for next time. I don’t really want your nasty germs on my shit.”

“Sure,” Adam says, voice suddenly sounding funny. “Thanks.”

“It’s the hygienic thing to do,” Ronan says simply. Adam humors him and nods blithely.

As they exit the bathroom, Adam grabs Ronan's hand on an impulse, a light hold, not quite at intertwining their fingers just yet. Still, his cheeks feel especially warm. As they make their way to Ronan's room, Adam doesn't look at Ronan, and Ronan doesn't look at him, but there's Ronan's fingers briefly squeezing his own, and Ronan's thumb moving back and forth across the back of Adam's hand. 

Inside the room, Ronan immediately flops down onto the bed, sprawling on his front with his arms and legs spread out like a starfish so that he's pretty much taking up the entire thing. And the bed is small enough as it is. Considerably larger than Adam's mattress, but still small. 

Adam huffs and rolls his eyes. "Lynch." 

Ronan turns his head sideways from where it was face planted on the pillow. He raises an eyebrow, the half of his mouth that Adam can see turned up in an amused smirk.

"Parrish." 

"You know," Adam says lightly, "the way you're acting, one might think you don't want to get into bed with me." 

"The idea does sound pretty awful," Ronan drawls, but his voice catches on the words.

Adam tilts his head, moving closer. Slowly, his heart in his throat, he reaches out and lightly drags his fingers over Ronan's shoulderblade, right over a raven’s beak. "Does it?" 

Ronan's gaze is intense as he looks up at Adam, and he doesn’t quite manage to suppress a shudder. "Depends. Do you snore?"

"You've been sleeping on my floor for months now, Lynch. You know I don't snore."

"I don't know if you kick, though, or if you hog the blankets." 

Adam pushes his shoulder, but Ronan just keeps staring. He swats at it again, and Ronan catches his hand. 

"I _do_ know that you talk in your sleep, and that shit is annoying as fuck." 

Adam makes an indignant noise. "I do not.”

"As if you would know. I'm telling you, I heard you mumble weird crap plenty of times. Occasionally in Latin, too." 

Adam blinks. "I think that was because of Cabeswater," Adam says quietly, all mirth gone from his countenance. “When it gave me dreams, I must’ve…” He trails off, the misery suddenly clawing up his throat again.

Ronan studies his face, and then sighs. “Come on.” 

He pulls at Adam’s hand, hard, so that Adam stumbles forward and onto the bed. 

“ _Christ_ ,” Adam grunts, limbs flailing as he struggles to find purchase. He lands on the bed on his hands and knees, and then adjusts so that he’s lying on his front, head turned to face Ronan. He shoves at Ronan to move over, but the other boy only just barely complies, shifting over a negligible amount, resulting in them being a lot closer than necessary.

“You’re a hooligan,” Adam says.

Ronan flashes his teeth in a quick, snakelike grin. 

Adam shifts again, now laying on his side. Ronan stares at him for a few moments, then mirrors his position.

Adam swallows. Being close to Ronan like this, looking into his light blue eyes… it’s too much. Words keep rising up inside Adam, each thought more dangerous to voice than the next. He risks voicing one anyway.

“You know, I… I didn't know that," Adam whispers, voice dipping low. 

"Didn't know what?"

"That you... since before Cabeswater." It comes out clumsy and flustered. Adam can't say the words _wanted me_ , so he hopes Ronan gets the gist.

He doesn't know when exactly he started noticing Ronan's attentions, or when he began looking back. The rent put the possibility of it in his head, and when Ronan called him _Magician_ in that proud, awed way, when Ronan told him he dreamt Cabeswater, he figured that must have been it. 

Ronan had needed someone as uncanny as him, and after Cabeswater, Adam was exactly that. He couldn't dream entire lands, but he had power, he had magic, he was different and he stood apart from the others just like Ronan did. 

Ronan's eyebrows are furrowed. "What I don't get is why you think Cabeswater would've had anything to do with it."

"Oh, come on," Adam says, disbelieving. "You _know_ why. God, Ronan you _dreamt_ it _._ It's yours. You've done the impossible over and over again, and you expect me to believe--"

"This isn't about _magic_. I'm not Gansey, I don't get off on that shit--"

Adam huffs, mild embarrassment creeping up his neck. "Gansey doesn't--" If anything, it was the opposite, really. Gansey had never been anything but afraid of Adam, after Cabeswater.

"Not you, specifically," Ronan says dismissively. "But you know how he is. Blue, too." 

Adam can’t disagree with that.

"Point is, I don't give a fuck what Cabeswater gave you. It was _you_ , before and after that damn ritual. It wasn't—it wasn't about anything else. It’s just you."

The words make little sense, and Ronan's tone is frustrated, clearly annoyed at having to verbalize his feelings. Still, something Adam's chest quiets.

Then Ronan snorts, amusement coloring his features. "Besides, according to that fucked up logic, I'm into Gansey now just because Cabeswater fucking—I don’t know, rebuilt him, or whatever, and he’s probably some weird part forest species that we know fuck all about.”

Adam doesn’t say anything, and it only takes Ronan ten seconds of silence to figure out why.

“You’re shitting me,” Ronan says.

Adam can feel his whole face turn red. “Shut up.”

“You didn’t—you really thought—“

“God, _no_. It’s not like—I just—it just _occurred_ to me that—“

Adam’s rambling is cut off by warm lips against his own. It's brief and sweet, speaking a reassurance that Adam tries his best to accept.

Ronan’s expression is complicated when he pulls back,

"How long, then?" Adam asks, suddenly desperate. “Tell me.”

"Fuck if I know."

Adam narrows his eyes. "If you don't spit it out, I'll kick you off this bed."

"You'd kick a man out of his own bed, Parrish? That's harsh. Especially when you're the one who invited yourself into it." 

Adam's chest does something panicky and unpleasant at the last part. He considers going back to Declan's room for an instant, or maybe sleeping on the couch. He doesn’t want to intrude where he isn’t wanted.

It must show on his face, because Ronan clenches his jaw. He lifts his hand and clasps the back of Adam neck and shoulders, fingers just barely brushing the hairs at the nape, pulling him closer.

“Shut up," Ronan says, scornful and achingly soft at the same time. 

“I didn’t say anything." The words come out quiet in the breath of a space between them.

"You don't have to open your mouth to be a dumb shit."

Adam scoffs, but he's trying and failing to fight a small smile. He feels an absurd fondness at Ronan’s constant mockery, especially when it contrasts so greatly with what he’s really saying. Then he nearly chokes on his next breath when Ronan leans in and nudges Adam's nose with his own.

"Really," Ronan whispers. "I can't believe you're such an idiot."

Adam has never blushed from an insult before, but it's a close thing, this time.

"Yeah, you've mentioned that. Many times," Adam whispers back. 

He feels dizzy. He can count every one of Ronan's eyelashes from how close the other boy is.

"No wonder you're behind me in Latin," Ronan says, smirking.

"Asshole. You’re the one with grammar so _abysmal_ that it bled into the magic forest you pulled out of your head."

Ronan glares at him, vaguely offended at the insult to his Latin skills. Adam kicks him in the shin. Ronan retaliates by kissing him again. He barely has to lean forward, really, and Ronan's lips are only on his for one, two, three seconds before he pulls away just as quickly. Adam's eyes had just fluttered shut. He opens his eyes and is about to protest but the intense look on Ronan's face stops him.

Ronan moves his fingers from the back of Adam's neck to trace the shell of his hearing ear. It's a strange sensation, the touch gentle and intimate in a way Adam has never experienced. Ronan watches as Adam's ear turns faintly pink beneath his hand. His ever-present leather wristbands scratch lightly against Adam’s cheek.

"You know," Adam starts, then clears his throat, embarrassed at how hoarse his voice sounds, "You never actually answered my question."

“Didn’t I?” Ronan asks, voice nonchalant and almost absent, casually combing through dusty hair at the crown of his head. Ronan’s touch is intentionally distracting, and becomes even more so when he brushes his thumb back and forth over Adam's cheekbone, touches his scratchy jaw, all while holding his gaze.

Maybe Ronan did answer the question. Just not with words.

For perhaps the first time ever, it’s Adam who looks away.

He can’t contain his shallow breaths. Adrenaline whispers in his heart.

Adam closes his eyes again, and for a moment, Ronan’s touch feels like Cabeswater’s leaves against his cheek, like the sensation of scrying and being everywhere and nowhere at once. He’s so caught up in it that Ronan has to call his name twice before he hears him.

Adam blinks up at Ronan’s puzzled face.

“Earth to Parrish. You dead over there?”

Adam is still amongst soaring trees. Ronan’s firm hand cupping his jaw is vines crawling up an old oak, striving towards the sunlight.

Then Ronan is pressing his middle finger into the furrow between Adam’s brows.

“You know you’re gonna get wrinkles about thirty years earlier than normal if you keep this shit up.”

It breaks the spell. Adam scoffs and slaps his hand away. “You’re one to talk.”

“Don’t get all pissy. Just don’t want you to have old Roger Malory’s crinkly ass face before you graduate high school.”

Adam shoots him a withering look. “You’re insufferable.”

Ronan just smirks at him. “And my face is line free.”

That isn’t strictly true. Adam is pretty sure that Ronan’s constant glowers cause more wrinkles than Adam’s frowns.

“Ronan.”

“What?”

“ _Shut up_.”

Ronan opens his mouth, likely to say something even more ridiculous and irritating, but Adam kisses him before he can.

It’s different, when Adam initiates it. He doesn’t have it in himself to be careful like Ronan is. There is something frantic, something desperate, in Adam’s movements: the way he grips Ronan’s black tank tight in his fingers, the way his lips move greedily, eager and hungry to a fault. He finds himself frustrated even while he’s kissing Ronan, because even if Ronan’s mouth opening and tongue sliding against his own is good, _so good_ , nothing feels like enough. Especially not now, when loss is burning a giant black hole in his heart and he needs to hold onto the one thing that he still has left, the one thing he never wants to lose.

Ronan can’t seem to keep up with Adam, breaking away to catch his breath, panting like he’s run a mile.

Adam uses the opportunity to push Ronan so that he’s lying on his back and climbs on top of him. Adam barely notices Ronan’s eyes widening before he’s attacking Ronan’s lips again, hard and sloppy and impatient. Ronan makes a soft noise of surprise, but responds with equal fervor, his fingers sliding from the nape of Adam’s neck to curl into his hair.

Adam can keep going forever, but it’s not long before Ronan breaks away again.

“Parrish,” Ronan says, or gasps, his cheeks flushed and breaths labored. “I brought you in here to _sleep_.”

"I can sleep tomorrow night," Adam says, ridiculously, nonsensically. Ronan always makes him so damn nonsensical.

Ronan gives him a look. Adam gives him a look back.

Adam sighs and rolls off of Ronan, lying on his side instead. “Fine. Then _you’re_ sleeping too.”

Ronan glares at him. Adam glares back.

“You’ve slept way less than I have. If you’re planning to just lay here and stay awake the whole night, then so am I.”

Adam feels victorious at the way Ronan clenches his jaw, doing his smoker’s breath, realizing that he really has no other option but to at least close his eyes and pretend to attempt at sleep. Adam hopes the pretense and someone else’s presence will help the real thing take Ronan under, at least for a little while.

“You’re a stubborn pain in my ass, Parrish.”

Adam stares at him coolly. “Ditto, Lynch.”

Ronan swears under his breath and then reaches over to turn the lamp off. Soon enough everything is covered in moonlight streaming in through the window near the bed, making Ronan’s already sharp angles seem even sharper. Ronan lifts the blanket at the edge of the bed and drapes it over both of them, and then aggressively turns onto his back and crosses his arms, making a show of just how put out he is by the whole ordeal. Adam just snorts and elbows his side. Ronan turns his head to glower at him. Adam cocks an eyebrow. Ronan rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling again.

Adam swallows, want stirring in his gut. The bed is spacious enough that they can both lie comfortably on their backs and not be touching. There are only inches between their skin, but it’s too far apart. Adam’s gaze roams the familiar lines of Ronan’s face, the length of his throat, his strong shoulders peeking through the blanket. His eyes are squeezed shut now, but Adam knows that Ronan is just as aware of his presence as Adam is of his.

“Stop staring, you creepy bastard,” Ronan snaps.

“You’re one to talk,” Adam says for the second time that night, but his voice catches in his throat.

Ronan opens his eyes at Adam’s odd tone. Adam meets his gaze and holds it purposefully before turning onto his other side so he’s facing away from Ronan.

Adam waits, his heart pounding. He waits and waits, five, ten, fifteen seconds. Regret twists in his stomach when it seems as if Ronan isn’t going to do anything. Because this is new and different for both of them, because this is asking for the kind of closeness that Adam has never experienced but somehow aches for regardless. He shuts his eyes tightly and lets the disappointment fill him up, and it’s even more cutting than he initially realized. But then—

There’s the rustle of sheets and blankets as someone moves, knees touching the backs of Adam’s own, a chest against his spine, a breath on his nape. The hand comes last, skimming his hip over his thin t-shirt, reaching his stomach. Adam thinks that’s the end of it, but then Ronan’s fingers slip under the fabric and splay out on the bare skin of his belly.

Adam sucks in a sharp breath, and Ronan wavers, uncertainty starting to draw his hand away. But Adam quickly puts his hand over Ronan’s, holding it in place. He squeezes it in reassurance.

After a few moments of weighted silence, Adam mutters, unnecessarily, “Your hand is really warm.”

Ronan snorts. “Okay.”

Adam has to work to contain his reaction when Ronan’s lips brush the back of his neck as he speaks. He’s not sure that he succeeds, if the goosebumps are any indication. In this past week, he’s been learning a lot of useful but damning information regarding just how sensitive every part of his neck is.

In response, Adam presses his cold feet to Ronan’s shin. Ronan swears creatively.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Adam says.

“You started it, dickwad,” Ronan replies, indignant.

Adam doesn’t bother responding. Instead he closes his eyes again, trying to sleep for real. But his mind can’t rest. His fingers, almost with a will of their own, reach under Ronan’s leather bracelets and feel the soft skin of his forearm. Adam feels a puff of breath on his nape. He has an urge to keep going, wants to touch at the inside of Ronan’s wrist, but forces himself to stop there.

“I tried scrying today,” Adam blurts out, for some unfathomable reason.

Ronan startles behind him. “You—what?”

“In the afternoon, when you were doing shit in the fields—“

“You scried _alone?_ ” Ronan is abruptly angry,

“Relax. Opal was there.” Truthfully, Adam was feeling reckless and out of sorts and _would_ have scryed alone had Opal not found him in the Barns’ study, surrounded by bowls of water and lit candles, and glared at him until he let her help him. He wasn’t about to tell Ronan that, though.

And?” Ronan asks, all careful. It’s probably all the more evident why Adam broke down tonight.

Something about Ronan’s carefulness in this moment annoys Adam. “ _And_ nothing,” Adam says bitterly. “Obviously.”

“Adam—“

“I should have known,” Adam says furiously. Furious at himself, mostly. “I don’t know why I even fucking bothered. I just thought—maybe—even without Cabeswater, that I could… but it’s useless.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I just—there’s… so much. So much I could have learned and done and it felt like I’d only just started it all when it was taken away—“ Adam breaks off, the ache inside of him spilling out for the hundredth time this night. It’s like he hadn’t truly stopped throwing up his guts from earlier. They just kept rising inside his throat and escaping his mouth.

“First of all, you don’t know shit about what you still can and can’t do, yet. Don’t write anything off before you talk to the witches. Didn’t you say that they were hoping you’d replace Persephone? They wouldn't have even thought of that if they didn’t see something else in you.”

Adam tries to say something, but no words come out.

Ronan keeps going, voice heated. “And I _told_ you. You don’t fucking need Cabeswater, you don’t need magic or scrying or fucking tarot cards. You can still do everything you want to do. You’re still the genius who makes connections no one else can make and saves everyone’s asses.”

Adam turns his head, finally, twisting to look Ronan in the eye, shock pulsing through him. “I didn’t—“

“Yeah you fucking did,” Ronan snaps, and the way he says it, it’s as if there’s no room for debate. Then, quieter, “Cabeswater loved you.”

Adam nearly flinches at the words. “It didn’t—it—it loved all of us.”

“Maybe, but it loved _you_. And that wasn’t just because of the sacrifice. And even that—you think it would’ve let anyone be its magician? It picked _you_.”

Adam doesn’t entirely believe it, but he also doesn’t argue, for once. Instead, he asks, quietly, “Do you think it’ll ever come back?”

Ronan looks pained. “I don’t know. I’d hope—I want to try, fuck, but—“

Adam kisses him, a silent reassurance. When he pulls back, he simply says, “Okay.”

Ronan exhales, long and slow. “You should really sleep, Parrish.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry.”

Adam turns back around, and Ronan presses even closer to him.

For the briefest second, there’s a kiss on the shell of his ear, then the back of his neck. Adam wonders if Ronan can feel the way his heart pounds underneath his palm at the actions.

“Night, _Magician_.”

Adam thinks he’s addicted to the way that word forms on Ronan’s lips.

He can’t help but smile, just a little. “Goodnight.”

 

*

 

When Adam wakes up, he feels… not well rested, exactly, but he doesn’t feel that deep exhaustion and misery that he has for days. The night before comes back to him and he curls into Ronan further, sighing, a slight amazement hitting him at the surreal feeling of having Ronan Lynch’s arms around him. As his fingers brush over Ronan’s own, he realizes that they aren’t empty. He frowns and turns over to look at Ronan. Ronan’s eyes are open, but he’s not moving, and though the sight brings back his worst nightmares, Adam knows that it only means Ronan is paralyzed from bringing something back. He touches the side of Ronan’s face, the pads of his fingers brushing his cheekbone, the shell of his ear, his jaw.

“Ronan,” Adam whispers.

A few seconds later, Ronan lets out a little gasp and blinks, finally coming back to himself. He seems taken aback by Adam’s proximity.

“Hey,” Ronan says, voice hoarse from sleep.

“Hi,” Adam breathes, dropping his hand. He looks down at Ronan’s loose fist, clutching something small and green. A leaf? “What’d you bring back?”

Ronan’s mouth is a thin line. “I—“ He breaks off, running his other hand over his shaved head. “See for yourself.”

He opens his fist and, lying in his palm, is a small piece of vine, barely longer than Ronan’s hand, tiny leaves hanging off of it.

Adam frowns. “Is this from…”

“Take it,” Ronan insists.

He doesn’t know what game Ronan is playing at, but slowly, he reaches towards it. Before he touches it, he looks at Ronan again, half worried this is some sort of trick. Ronan just nods.

Adam picks it up, and startles when the vine starts to slowly move on its own, twisting and shaping itself.

Shaping itself into the infinity symbol.

Adam is so astonished that it takes him longer than it usually would to make the connection.

The Magician stands in a garden of flowers, holding a wand in his right hand, an infinity sign over his head.

Adam swallows, and he has to close his eyes for a moment to compose himself. When he opens them, Ronan is looking at him, as he always is.

“Ronan,” Adam says. He means, _Ronan._

“Cabeswater wanted me to give it to you,” Ronan says.

Adam’s heart stops. “It—what?”

“It’s still… it’s broken. Even in my head. But it’s _there_ , and it told me… it wanted you to have something from it.”

Adam sucks in a sharp breath. Tears threaten to spill over, but he manages to keep them at bay.

Something else occurs to him. “You didn’t want to dream.”

Ronan shrugs, nonchalant in a way that’s entirely too revealing.

The first couple nights, Ronan managing to get even a little bit of sleep resulted in the worst kinds of nightmares, and after that, he did his best to avoid dreaming, certainly to avoid taking anything from his dreams. It was too risky. He refused to enter his dreamscape willingly.

Until now, it seemed.

For Adam.

Adam cradles the vine in his hands for a few more seconds, then puts it on the small table beside the bed. As soon as it leaves his fingers, it turns back into its original vaguely linear shape.

Adam turns back to Ronan, takes his face in his hands, and kisses him.

It’s frantic and messy, but Adam doesn’t care. There’s too much inside of him and he needs to let it out, needs to clutch Ronan as tightly as he can and let him know, wordlessly, what he’s feeling. Adam’s fingers travel to the base of Ronan’s skull, and Ronan sighs against his lips.

Adam rolls onto his back and pulls Ronan on top of him, and Ronan’s only too happy to comply. Neither of their breaths smell too great, but Adam doesn’t mind if Ronan doesn’t. And Ronan doesn’t seem like he does, with the way his tongue shoves enthusiastically into Adam’s mouth.

Ronan trails kisses down the side of his neck, causing Adam to make an embarrassing sound. With the way Ronan smiles against his throat, Adam figures his neck sensitivity is all too obvious.

As Ronan kisses him, Adam feels something inside him again, a gratitude so overwhelming that it makes his head spin, makes his eyes sting, and with it comes a relief so palpable that he nearly trembles with it.

He’d thought that he would never feel that feeling again.

When they finally stop, chests heaving and cheeks flushed, Adam pushes Ronan off of him and puts an arm over his eyes, panting a little too hard. He needs to get his bearings, and that’s impossible while he’s touching Ronan, while he’s looking at Ronan, while he’s thinking about Ronan. Which he still is, really. The whole thing is a useless effort.

A minute passes, and then Ronan shifts and tugs at Adam’s arm. Adam removes his arm and glares up at Ronan, who’s leaning up on his arm, looking down at him.

Ronan raises an eyebrow.

Adam huffs. “What?”

Ronan just says, “Adam.”

Adam swallows and murmurs, almost to himself, “Thirteen.”

Ronan stares at him in confusion. “What?”

Adam turns red, not having meant to say that out loud. “Nothing.”

Ronan narrows his eyes. “Are we just randomly spitting out numbers, now? Okay, I’ll go with it. Twenty four. Fifty six. Sixty nine—“

Adam shoves at Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan laughs, unrepentant.

“You’re the absolute worst, just so you know.”

Ronan smirks. “I know.”

Adam rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He worries at his lip with his teeth, and then says quietly, not quite sure why he’s admitting it, “Thirteen. It’s the number of times you’ve called me Adam.” Well, at least the number since a particular night.

Ronan’s face does something complicated. He lies back down on his side and mutters, “You’re keeping track of how many times I call you by your own name? That seems a bit tedious.”

“I can almost count them on two hands, so not really.”

Ronan’s looking at him in that intense way of his, eyebrows furrowed, and Adam finally does what he’s been wanting to do since last night, since longer if he thinks about it. He presses his fingers between Ronan’s eyebrows, smoothing the skin there.

“Gonna get wrinkles if you keep frownin’ like that, Lynch,” Adam says, smirking. “Don’t want to start lookin’ like Gansey’s best friend Malory, do you?”

Ronan scoffs and swats at his chest. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Rude,” Adam points out. “Would you kiss Gansey with that mouth?”

Ronan’s face scrunches up in exaggerated disgust. “I wouldn’t kiss Gansey with any mouth.”

Adam hums and smirks wider, and then he traces his Ronan’s eyebrows, touches his temple. He gently swipes his thumb underneath Ronan’s eye, making Ronan’s eyes flutter shut. His long eyelashes fall on Adam’s finger, and goosebumps line Adam’s arms just from this feeling, whatever it is. He leans in to lightly brush his lips between Ronan’s brows. Ronan exhales and presses his forehead against Adam’s. It’s quiet, peaceful. Just the feeling of each other’s closeness.

Ronan breaks the silence. “When do you have to be at work?”

“In about an hour.”

“Oh.” A pause. “You want to come over afterward?”

Adam hesitates. “I think… I think I’ll go to Fox Way first. And get some answers. But afterwards, yeah.”

Ronan’s smile is fleeting but fierce. Adam’s gaze gets caught on it for far too long.

Ronan raises his eyebrow when he notices. “Staring again, Parrish.”

Adam sits up and hits Ronan with his pillow. Ronan guffaws and pulls Adam down for a kiss. Adam is annoyed, but not annoyed enough to refuse Ronan Lynch’s mouth on his.

He doesn’t know how long they’re making out for when a sharp _Kerah_ interrupts them.

Opal stands in the doorway with Chainsaw on her shoulder, both of their heads tilted in curiosity at the sight of Ronan and Adam.

Adam flushes bright red and hastily rolls off of Ronan. He doesn’t know exactly what the hooved girl knows or thinks of their relationship. He wonders if Chainsaw approves.

“Squirt,” Ronan barks, looking a little flushed as well. “What are you doing up so early?”

Opal frowns. “Never slept.”

Chainsaw caws, presumably in agreement.

“Good morning, Opal,” Adam says, always polite.

Opal smiles shyly and walks over to him. She takes his palm and kisses it, while Chainsaw lands on Adam’s shoulder and nuzzles into his neck.

Adam laughs at Ronan’s rather embarrassed expression, and Opal smiles brighter at the sound.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ronan says, scowling. “It’s not because of me.”

That’s true about Opal, at least.

“Whatever you say, Greywaren.”

Ronan curses and jumps off the bed. “Whatever. I’m hungry. I’m making breakfast.”

“Make some waffles for me.”

“Make your own damn waffles, _Adam_ ,” Ronan snaps as he’s walking out the bedroom door.

“Fourteen,” Adam calls out gleefully.

Ronan gives him the finger.

When Adam drives to work, the vine is safely tucked into his pocket, a piece of a magical forest molded into infinity from being so wonderfully close to its beloved magician. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lorelaiglmore.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/adamparrush). Kudos and comments would be super duper appreciated!


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